A Mere Collection of Words
by Burst.ofSILENCE
Summary: Pretty, cute, striking, gorgeous, beautiful. Ten synonyms, and how they all apply to Annabeth Chase through the eyes of Percy Jackson. Percy/Annabeth Oneshot; high-T rating for implied sexytimes.


**Done because Percy describes Annabeth in a whole cacophony of words when he really just wants to say that he's utterly attracted to her. I mean, I've always found it adorable that Percy only referred to Annabeth as pretty, cute, and beautiful and never in sorta-objectifying terms like hot or anything that pertains specifically to her sex appeal. Like, he acknowledges Annabeth is pretty but ultimately her looks weren't what he fell for, and I love that. And yet a shallow part of me was semi-disappointed because Percy, your girlfriend is hella gorgeous (I mean, you can't be a demigod as physically active as Annabeth Chase and not have a rockin' bod worth commentary), and you don't notice? It may have been because the series is, you know, supposed to be for kids, but Percy's still a teenager and I expected him to at least call her hot once. AND THEN IT HAPPENED IN HOUSE OF HADES. PERCY CALLS HER HOT AND I MADE A HUGE DEAL OVER THAT ONE LINE BECAUSE YESSSS FINALLY PERCY ADMITS HIS PHYSICAL ATTRACTION TO ANNABETH FIC MUST BE DONE.**

**Or maybe, you know, I was just looking for an excuse to write these two dorks in various stages of their relationship.**

**Also inspired partly by prompt #5: Beautiful from the PJO yalit100 challenge on LJ. **

**Disclaimer: Rick Riordan owns Percy Jackson and the Olympians and Heroes of Olympus.**

* * *

**A Mere Collection of Words**_  
_

**one—pretty.**

Percy stumbled as he pulled Grover along, desperate to get his unconscious friend out of harm's way. He was confused from discovering the half-barnyard animal heritage of his best friend. He was tired from fighting a half-bull, half-man creature wearing nothing but bright white underwear and from dragging his aforementioned best friend's dead weight over a hill. He was hurting from losing his mother in a golden shower that wasn't supposed to be half as beautiful as it had been as it took away the person dearest to him. He was disoriented and just all around exhausted.

Percy fell to his knees once he and Grover reached the front porch of the huge house, and two figures immediately rushed towards them. The first one… Percy could've it was Mr. Brunner, his Latin teacher back at Yancy Academy. The other one was a girl probably around his age. She stood in front of him, staring at him with the most intimidating gray eyes. Her golden blonde curls framed her face, making him think of some kind of warrior-princess.

"He's the one," she said, "He must be."

"Silence, Annabeth. He's still conscious," the Mr. Brunner look-a-like tole her. "Bring him inside."

The last thing Percy remembered running through his head before blacking out was that the girl was kind of pretty.

* * *

**two—cute.**

Percy's eyes had glazed over about twenty minutes ago.

He loved his best friend, he really did, but a guy could only take so much architecture facts until his brain completely shut down. Especially if said guy was a thirteen-year-old demigod with ADHD.

If anybody told him last year that he'd be willingly sitting down with the daughter of his dad's rival (who was – surprise, surprise – kind of a know-it-all), he would've accused them of ingesting magic mushrooms or something.

He had to admit, though, the way Annabeth's eyes lit up as she babbled on about ionic columns and support beams was kind of…

_Cute._

The thought blindsided him so much that he choked on the Coke he had been drinking.

No way he'd just thought _that. _This was _Annabeth_. She could kick his butt into next Tuesday without batting an eyelash. How was that anywhere near _cute?_

Annabeth stared at him weirdly, and he waved her off, saying he was fine as he wiped his mouth with his sleeve. She rolled her eyes and stood up.

"Come on, Seaweed Brain, or we'll be late for Ancient Greek."

As they headed for Ancient Greek, Percy mentally scoffed at what he had just thought about his best friend.

_Cute, pssh. _Annabeth would have his head if she ever found out he described her as _cute._

* * *

**three—striking. **

Sometimes, Percy would catch himself watching her as she fought.

For all his prowess with a sword, Annabeth was still something else on the battlefield. She moved with practiced ease and agility, like she was dancing instead of trying to gut someone. Her knife-hand snapped out in precise, lightning fast strikes. One look at her, and anyone can easily tell that she'd been doing this since she was a kid.

Percy did not envy her opponents one bit. If people thought she was scary when facing down a pack of monsters, she was even scarier one-on-one. She would stare at her opponent with calculating grey eyes, making them feel like they were being X-rayed. Then, her eyes would flash, and her opponent would be monster dust or on the ground with a knife at their throat before they knew it.

And while he didn't quite fully understand why seeing her like this made his heart thud harder against his chest, he_ was_ sure of one thing.

She was positively striking in battle.

* * *

**four—captivating.**

He felt like a cold fist had wrapped itself around his heart.

Oh gods, Annabeth had almost _died. _She had almost died taking a knife for _him. _It was stupid of her, especially since he now had the Curse of Achilles and everything; but at the same time, if she hadn't taken that knife, Percy would have been stabbed at his weak spot, and he'd be dead, nothing "almost" about it.

Which just begged one question.

"How did you know?"

When her eyebrows scrunched together in confusion, he elaborated. He asked her how she knew about his Achilles' Spot, knew to take the knife that would've killed him by pure luck.

Her eyes glazed over, like she had just realized how close she'd come to losing him, which was, again, pretty stupid, because _he'd _nearly lost _her._

"I don't know, Percy," she said. "I just had this feeling you were in danger. Where… where is this spot?"

"The small of my back."

"Where? Here?"

As she was asking, her fingers had already begun slipping underneath his shirt and trailing up his spine, making his skin tingle. He guided her hand towards the small of his back, and once her fingertips came into contact with his Achilles' Spot, the tingles became full-on electric currents.

His eyes locked with hers, and Percy wondered if her eyes had always been this captivating, like he could get lost in their stormy depths if he wasn't careful enough.

"So I saved your life," she muttered, "What's new?"

What's new was that his feelings for her were getting much, much stronger.

* * *

**five—adorable.**

They were sitting in his cabin, talking about their plans for the upcoming year. As Annabeth told him about the new boarding school in New York that she was going to attend, Percy found himself staring at her, a habit he'd developed over the years.

She wore jean shorts and a shirt of his that she never bothered giving back after he'd lent it to her last summer. Her blond curls were pulled into a sloppy bun. She was gesturing wildly – something she did when she was particularly irritated or excited – and her lips were set in a wide, almost awestruck grin as she talked about all the architecture electives she could take in her new school.

He was sure she wasn't at all aware of how adorable she was, and he couldn't help but lean forward and place an affectionate kiss against the corner of her mouth.

Annabeth paused. "What was that for?"

Percy just shrugged, albeit a little nervously. "Nothing, really. Just felt like doing it."

He could do that, right? He was her boyfriend now, and boyfriends could kiss their girlfriends if they wanted…right? Granted, they'd only gotten together a few days ago, so he was still painfully, awkwardly new to this couple thing.

When Annabeth stayed silent, panic began to well up in him.

Oh, gods, maybe he overstepped his boundaries. Maybe he should've asked permission to kiss her first. He should have, shouldn't he? He was so stupid. Now Annabeth was going to break up with him for being too forward or something like tha—

A peck on his lips dissolved all of his thoughts and maybe even part of his brain. Annabeth smiled at him.

"You're doing it again," She said, smoothing out the scrunch between his eyebrows with her thumb. "I know I said you look cute like that, but I'd rather you not get hurt from all that thinking you're doing."

At that, he pretended to look offended. "Hey!"

At least, that was what he was trying to go for, but the only thing he managed to get out of his mouth was a dopey "Duh?"

Her lips pulled back into a teasing smirk.

It was nice to know that some things hadn't changed.

* * *

**six—stunning.**

All things considered, he figured he did a pretty good job with their first-month anniversary.

Of course, this was _after _they ended up running around the New York sewage system to retrieve Hermes' caduceus, but that was all done and over with.

Vaguely registering that he was in a stuffy monkey suit, Percy looked around, trying to figure out where Hermes had teleported him and Annabeth to. When he spotted the Eiffel Tower (which, yes, he knew about; he wasn't _that _inept in architecture, thank you), he quickly cottoned on and thanked the messenger god for bringing them to the city of love. Percy turned towards Annabeth to make a comment, but his mouth dried up once he looked at her.

The girl in front of him was a goddess.

The sleeveless dark green dress vaguely reminded him of a Greek chiton, draping over Annabeth's athletic build so well that he couldn't help but stare. Her blonde curls were out of their usual ponytail and cascaded down her shoulders. A string of grey pearls lined the hollow of her throat, matching her eyes perfectly.

Percy was glad Annabeth was too tongue-tied over being in Paris, because he wasn't sure he could speak, either.

He'd always known Annabeth was cute, but he'd never seen her in a dress before. Now that he had, he couldn't help but think that his girlfriend (and, wow, even a month after they'd started dating, calling her that still did funny, flip-floppy things to Percy's stomach) had become utterly stunning.

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**seven—hot.**

This was so totally not the time. They were in _Tartarus_ for gods' sakes. They were being hunted, neither of them have taken a proper bath in ages, and they were _in the middle of a battle._

But her eyes were flashing dangerously, she was holding her new sword made out of drakon bone, and her blond curls were slipping out of her makeshift ponytail and just scattered everywhere. He couldn't help it; the thought came unbidden to him.

If Tartarus had taught him one thing, it was that Annabeth would make a really hot Barbarian Princess.

* * *

**eight—gorgeous.**

They were in Percy's room on the Argo II, putting their best effort into keeping quiet. Even though Coach Hedge was no longer on the ship, privacy was still near impossible, especially since the rest of the Seven had continually shot the two of them worried looks ever since they came out of Tartarus, and Frank had a knack for walking in on them in embarrassingly compromising positions. As much as they appreciated everything their friends were doing for them, there were times when it got pretty overwhelming, so Annabeth didn't feel too bad when she locked the door shut behind her.

Somehow, the two of them had ended up on the bed with Annabeth's knees on either side of Percy's hips. Maybe it had finally sunk in that they were out of that literal hellhole, that they were actually safe for the time being, because suddenly, their kisses were growing longer and more passionate, and they were having trouble keeping their hands to themselves.

Annabeth lowered herself onto his lap, and promptly gasped when she felt a noticeable bulge press against her thighs. A strangled groan managed to escape Percy's throat. He ripped his lips away from hers and quickly pushed her away, face redder than a tomato.

"Oh, gods, Annabeth, I'm so sorry you had to feel that."

"Percy—" She began, but he continued babbling.

"It's just that you were on top of me and kissing me like _that_ and we haven't actually been safe enough to just be together in so long—"

"Percy—"

"It probably doesn't help that I'm kind of ridiculously in love with you and— gods, I really am sorry—"

_"Percy,"_ She was laughing at him now, pulling his face closer to hers. "Relax, you dork. It's hormones, I get it."

He looked at her warily. "You aren't grossed out or anything like that?" He asked. Annabeth shook her head.

"I'm not," she said, and then smiled shyly. It was a look Percy had never seen on his girlfriend's usually-confident face. "It's actually sort of flattering that you find me attractive."

Percy sputtered. His hands returned to her hips, getting her attention. "Find you attracti—gods, Annabeth. Are you kidding me? You're gorgeous. You have no idea how… how _desirable _you are to me."

She bit her lip. "Even the scars?"

"Especially the scars." In a rather bold move, he added: "I find them kind of hot actually."

She snorted. "You're ridiculous."

Percy shrugged. "True story." He said, making her laugh again.

"So," she said once she managed to reign in her laughter, gesturing between the two of them, "Do you… want to?"

"No!" He blurted out. Then, realizing how easily his declaration could be misunderstood, he hastily added: "I mean, not right now. We've only been dating for, what, four months before I got Hera'd? And we're both pretty stressed out as it is with the war and all. I just don't think it'd be wise to throw in something like this into the mix, you know?

"Besides," and now, he was the one getting shy, "I want our first time to be special."

"You know, for a Seaweed Brain, you do have your moments." She muttered, pressing a tender kiss to his jaw. "One day."

"One day." He agreed, before sealing his lips against hers once more.

* * *

**nine—sexy.**

'One Day' eventually happened when they were eighteen.

They'd just come back from dinner and a movie to celebrate their anniversary and Percy's birthday. Now, they were in the hotel room his parents had gotten him as a gift (His face heated slightly as he remembered his mother blatantly slipping condoms into his overnight bag earlier that day), and Percy's pulse was pounding.

Annabeth's choice of clothing certainly hadn't helped matters. The little black dress hugged her lithe figure all too well, and when she'd first turned around that evening and he saw just how much of her tan skin was exposed by the backless dress, his brain had pretty much short-circuited.

Before he knew it, he was peeling the dress off her body and she was reaching for the snap of his pants.

It had been awkward and fumbling, and there had been a point where they'd needed to pause because neither of them could stop laughing; but it had brought the two of them together in a way they'd never done before, not with anyone, and when she'd looked up at him with equal parts trust, love, and desire, he'd fallen even harder than he already had.

Afterwards, Annabeth had sat up and said she needed to use the bathroom. She rolled off the bed, picking his white dress shirt off the floor and slipping it on as she headed for the bathroom. When she came back, Percy could only stare at her, and the fatigue that he'd felt creeping up had vanished.

Standing there, bathed in the moonlight, wearing his unbuttoned shirt (and _di immortales, _why did she even put it on if she wasn't going to bother buttoning it up, anyway?), curls wildly tousled and _not even trying_, she had never looked sexier to him, not even after everything they'd just done that evening.

When she reached the edge of the bed, she shed his shirt before crawling back under the sheets to lay next to him. She pressed her bare body along the length of his own, settling her head on the crook of his arm and throwing a leg over one of his. Annabeth pressed a kiss to his collarbone, and Percy could already feel his heartbeat accelerate again. Annabeth must've felt it too, because she slowly slid her body upwards to whisper in his ear.

"Round two?"

This girl was seriously going to be the death of him.

* * *

**ten—beautiful.**

When Percy woke up, he was greeted with curly blond hair and the scent of lemons. He smiled, carefully turning to his side and looking down at the sleeping form of Annabeth, whose head rested on his outstretched arm. Her form slowly rose and fell in time with her breathing, and her face was smooth and peaceful, unplagued by nightmares.

Even after six years, he sometimes still couldn't believe she was with him.

With his free arm, he gently traced the scar running across the side of her neck. He knew she sometimes felt self-conscious about this particular scar, even though she vehemently denied it every time he brought it up. He would sometimes catch her staring at it in the mirror or subconsciously running her fingers across the jagged strip of skin. Other people – mortals and even some demigods – stared at the scar since it was quite prominent against her skin, and whenever Annabeth noticed (and she always did; nothing got past the daughter of Athena), she got this look in her eyes that told Percy she was incredibly uncomfortable.

Percy absolutely hated it when they did that. Both the other people _and_ Annabeth.

She'd gotten that scar saving him, after all.

It had been during the final battle in Athens, and the way she'd jumped in front of a giant's weapon to defend him was painfully reminiscent of when she'd taken that poisoned dagger for him in the Battle of Manhattan, except there had been so much more blood, there had been nobody available to heal her, and it had honestly looked as if the very life was slipping away from her body. She was fine now, but back when it was happening, Percy had thought he was going to lose her for good.

Annabeth's scars fascinated Percy, and there were few things he liked more than mapping out all the scars that lined her body with his lips. They showed all the hardships she'd gone through and had overcome, showed how strong she was. But it was that scar on her neck, along with the one on her arm, the one she'd gotten at the Williamsburg Bridge during the Battle of Manhattan, that meant the most to Percy, because it reminded him that she loved him as much as he loved her: enough for her to take a blow for him, enough for him to fall into hell for her.

He tenderly pressed his lips against the scar on her neck, causing her to stir.

"Stop that." She muttered irritably, swatting him away. He grinned against her skin and pressed another kiss there.

To Percy, Annabeth was absolutely beautiful, scars and all.

* * *

**BONUS—? ? ?.**

Percy fidgeted on the spot, tugging at his collar before Grover swatted his hand away. At first, he'd been nervous, wanting everything to happen perfectly. Now, though, he just wanted it to be over. As much as he loved the beach in Montauk, standing under the hot sun in a suit made him highly uncomfortable. Besides, he hadn't seen Annabeth since the night before, and while I made him seem like a pansy, he really wanted to see her again.

After what seemed like ages, music started playing care of the Muses, and Hazel, Piper, and Rachel walked down the makeshift aisle, accompanied by the three groomsmen. Following them was Thalia, who'd somehow managed to look simultaneously pretty and intimidating in her Maid of Honor dress.

Then, Annabeth appeared, and Percy was sure he was gawking.

Her blond curls were down and blowing with the sea breeze. She wore little make-up, but her face was practically glowing. With every step she took, he saw her bare feet peek through her white dress. Percy couldn't hide his smile at that. Annabeth had vetoed every single protest of Aphrodite and her children to wear heels. She said they were already a pain to walk in in themselves; to have her walk on sand in them was never going to happen.

Standing under the sun, she almost seemed to glow, and when she smiled at him, all the way at the other end of the aisle, Percy was pretty sure she really was glowing.

There was a time in his life when he hadn't been sure if he and Annabeth were ever going to get here. The life of a demigod was never easy, and theirs were even more dangerous than most, facing down gods and monsters and getting front-row seats to two Great Prophecies. But they'd managed to pull through, out of sheer luck and a stubborn refusal to die; and now, he was finally going to have something he'd wanted since he was sixteen and realized he was in love: forever with the daughter of Athena.

Annabeth took her place beside him, handing Thalia her bouquet before turning to look at him and promptly snorting. With a roll of her eyes, She reached out and swiped at the corner of his mouth before pushing his jaw shut.

"You're drooling, Seaweed Brain," she said, making the crowd chuckle.

He needed to look for a better word for Annabeth. Beautiful clearly didn't cut it anymore.

* * *

_As if a smattering of syllables_  
_can encompass the universe _  
_swirling beneath your skin._  
—emily (starredsoul)

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**As mentioned above, the three lines are from a poem by a Tumblr user named starredsoul. The same poem inspired the title of this fic. Check her poetry out, guys. They're amazing.**

**As always, review, please.**


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